Doctor Who Drabbles
by IndigoTardisTurtle
Summary: A series of OneShots I've written.  I'll try to publish a new chapter every week.  10/Rose, 11/River, Rory/Amy, maybe more.  Please review!
1. Muscle Memory

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Rating: K

Okay, so this story popped into my head after pounding at the piano, practicing _Moonlight Sonata_, although the idea of muscle memory erased had been a niggling idea before that. It's been written for a while, and I decided to just publish it.

Also, I just realized – I got the order wrong. It's supposed to be: Meet Amelia, five-minute hop to the future (which turns out to be twelve years), THEN the TARDIS changes. I made the TARDIS change before the five minute/twelve year hop. Oops. Please don't let that get in the way of you enjoying the story.

-o-0-o-

**Chapter One: Muscle Memory**

The Doctor watched the TARDIS's brand-new rotor pump up and down within the console's central column. Cautiously, he lifted his hands from the switches. Everything remained steady.

He grinned, relieved. True, the reason he'd told Amelia to wait was that the TARDIS had to be broken in a bit, but the other was more important – every time he regenerated, he was afraid he'd lost the knack for flying his beloved ship. New body, new cravings, new thoughts…new flying techniques. He'd rather she was alone than dead. A seven-year-old incinerated by the TARDIS's burning wreckage and debris. He shuddered at the thought.

He remained there a minute, hypnotized by the smooth motion of the rotor. Up, down. Up, down. He kind of missed the more organic theme of the TARDIS – Coral – but his tastes had changed, he supposed. The TARDIS knew him better than he knew himself. And, in a way, he felt a sort of joy, sweeping his gaze across the orderly chaos. Yes, the TARDIS had gotten it right. She never failed.

He decided to give himself the grand tour of the newly renovated rooms. The hallways were different, the kitchen was different – ah, good, the tea was still in the same place. Then he entered a room he hadn't seen for a while – it was dubbed simply the Piano Room, with simple décor, and a single, solitary piano in the center.

"Oh, look at you," he said. He couldn't remember the last time he'd played. Did this new form like playing piano? No better time to find out.

He touched a key, and its smooth steady voice rang through the TARDIS.

Yes – he'd play _Moonlight Sonata. _Beethoven was a genius. A bit annoying to be around, given that you had to repeat everything five times before he'd hear it, but his music was amazing. And the Doctor, who'd heard pretty much every composer in history, didn't use the term 'amazing' lightly.

He played a few measures – and stumbled. The wrong note completely jarred the smooth, steady calm of the room. He blinked, playing the stanza again. He made the same mistake.

How could he be making a mistake _there_? He'd practiced that line, and practiced it, relentlessly pounding it into his fingers – oh.

_Oh_.

The total loss of muscle memory was a side effect of regeneration. He groaned. He'd practiced that particular line again, and again, and he'd felt so proud when he'd nailed it. Now he'd have to practice it _again_. Damnation.

He wondered if he remembered how to ride a bike.

-o-0-o-

Reviews are chocolate!


	2. Immunity

Okay – this is one of those plot bunnies that I probably thought up in the middle of the night. Thanks to my sister for catching the mistakes, and hopefully making the characters seem a little bit less out of character!

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or any other characters associated with Doctor Who.

Rating: K

-0-

"Rose," said the Doctor one day over breakfast, "I've been thinking."

"You do that a lot," she answered, barely looking up from the Saturday comics (she would have liked the Sunday ones, but he never landed on Sundays).

"_Rose_," he pressed.

She put the comics down reluctantly, looking up at him. "Fine: What about?"

"I've been thinking that humans are susceptible to many illnesses, especially alien viruses. And I don't mean alien viruses like from another country, I mean from another _planet_."

She froze. "And…?"

"…And so you should get vaccinated."

She shook her head fervently. "No."

He hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

"_No_."

He groaned. Leave it to humans to make everything difficult. "Rose, this could be life or death! You could step out onto an alien surface, and keel over!"

"No. I _hate_ shots."

"Rose, if you die from a virus I can easily immunize you from in five _minutes_, I wouldn't let myself live!"

"No!"

"It won't hurt a bit!" he pressed.

"That's what they all say!"

"Mornin'." They both looked up to see a groggy Captain Jack Harkness, still in PJs, make his way to the table. "Any coffee on board?"

The Doctor absentmindedly withdrew his sonic screwdriver and aimed it toward the back of the kitchen. The mechanical wonder – the oven/toaster/coffee maker/pretty much everything _including_ the kitchen sink (but missing a fridge – go figure) – in the back of the kitchen began to move, and within seconds a freshly brewed cup of coffee slid out onto a tray.

Jack blinked. "Um…thanks, TARDIS," he said, picking it up and taking a sip. The ship rumbled in reply.

"I had it installed last trip to Earth. 2300, robots were all the rage," he explained.

The three sat at the table a few moments, relishing the morning silence. Then the Doctor said, "Rose…."

"I said no!"

"Am I missing something?" asked Jack.

"I was telling Rose that, so many alien viruses roaming about, she needs to get a shot."

"And I was telling him no," said the blonde, her head in her hands.

"Rose," said Jack, "he's right. I've been sick with Grigiaflapse, and it wasn't fun."

"Jack, please!" said Rose. "I've had _nightmares_ about those things!"

"What, Grig' victims?"

"No! Shots!"

The Doctor sighed. "You know, it's not a yearly thing. Take it once, and you're done! For life!"

"Can't we just…I don't know, drink some medicine or something?" she said in a small voice. She'd lost the argument, she knew.

Jack groaned. "Rose, really." He stood up, and before Rose could protest, he hoisted her over his shoulder and couldn't resist swatting her bum lightly. "C'mon."

They reached the med bay and Jack let her down on the cot. Rose glared at him.. "You are _so_ gonna pay for this," she hissed.

"I don't doubt it," he said mildly. He walked to the door, leaning against the door frame and watching them.

The Doctor pulled out three _very_ sharp-looking needles. Rose hyperventilated all over again, staring at them with raw terror.

"I don't believe this," said the Doctor. "Daleks, Cybermen, even Stone Angels, and you didn't even blink! Well, that's probably a good thing, in the case of Stone Angels. But a shot, and you seize up!"

"And spiders," she managed to choke out. She couldn't take her eyes off those razor-sharp spikes of steel. "Do we really, really _have _to go through with this!" she pleaded, involuntarily tensing as they came within a thousand feet of her arm. She watched Jack stiffen as the Doctor brandished the needles. She grinned inwardly.

That is, until the Doctor stepped closer, effectively washing out all rational thought. Only white-hot panic remained. She shrank back.

The Doctor sighed. "Jack, a bit of help here?"

"Course, Doc." Jack walked over and began to tickle Rose's side mercilessly. Rose was _extremely_ ticklish, and he knew it.

"No – Jack – Stop!" she managed exclaim over the silent laughter. Finally, he let go. Rose glanced at the Doctor, who was putting the needles away.

"There," he says, "that didn't hurt, did it?"

She blinked. "You mean you did it?"

"Yup." He popped the 'P.'

"But…but I didn't feel a thing."

"Told you it wouldn't hurt." He pulled off the rubber gloves. "Well? Am I forgiven?"

"Well…." She hesitated. But he was trying to help her, and she probably would have gotten sick from _something_ without the shots. The Doctor was caring for her. "Yeah. I suppose. Sorry about all that."

"It's all right, fears make us do irrational things." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver. "Just a quick scan to make sure it got into the bloodstream all right…." The small blue light darted over her arm. "Yup. You, Rose Tyler, are now immune to it all. Esclopia, influenza, grigiaflapse, cancer…."

"Cancer!"  
>"Found a cure in 2058. Great year." He made to put the screwdriver away, but Rose stopped him.<p>

"Doctor?"

"What?"

"Check Jack."

"What!" Jack's voice squeaked halfway, and he frantically tried to cover it up. "I don't think that's necessary... I-I mean, I'm immortal!. I don't need…I – I don't…."

But the Doctor was done scanning before Jack had even finished talking. "Why Jack! I'm astonished! You've never had a shot in your life!"

"What?" said Jack, paling. He took a step back. "Ohhh, no no no no no no…."

Rose grinned slowly as she watched the Doctor take out the vaccines one more time….

-0-

Okay, so, that's it! That's my plot bunny that hopefully turned out okay….

Please Review!


	3. Home

Home

Summary: Just a short, sweet story in which Rose wants to go home. The Doctor wonders what he did wrong. 10Rose, oneshot.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, or anything that has to do with Doctor Who.

Rating: K

This is set sometime between _New Earth_ and _School Reunion_.

The Doctor and Rose quietly wander among the glowing baubles, strains of music in the distance. They're at a party, thrown for them _("Finally," said the Doctor, "__**Someone**__ notices that we save their world from destruction!")_, and it's late, almost two o' clock in the morning. Rose is bleary-eyed, stumbling on her feet.

"I want to go home," she mumbles, half-asleep.

"What?" the Doctor asks, startled by this change of heart.

"I said –" she breaks off in a huge yawn, "I want to go home."

Go home? After all the fun they'd had? Had he done something wrong? But he says, "Alright…."

The two make their goodbyes to the chief, who thanks them profusely. "Come again, you will?" the chief asks in his planet's Yoda style of speech.

"Of…of course," says the Doctor quickly. _He_ would return, of course. But Rose would be home, drinking tea with her mum and watching the telly. Why? She'd always seemed so happy with him….

They step into the TARDIS, waving goodbye to the enthusiastic natives. The Doctor, with a heavy heart, walks to the console and sets the coordinates for Place. _London, England, Earth. _Soon he'd be doing this alone. Again.

What had he done wrong?

What was she disappointed in?

_I shouldn't have told her she was a stupid ape so many times._

_I shouldn't have taken her on so many exhausting adventures._

_I shouldn't have fallen in love._

(Love? Where did _that_ come from?)

He sets the Time dials. _March 22, 2011, 2:15:45. _His hand hovers over _Start_.

_I'll have to tell her I love her._

_I'll have to get the words out, somehow._

"What are you doing?" asks Rose.

He looks up in surprise. "Taking you home."

"What?" She looks startled. Then she realizes what he means and begins laughing.

"What?" he asks, confused. "That's what you said, right?"

"You're taking…me…to London!" she gasps. She can hardly get the words out for laughing so hard.

"What's wrong with that?" he asks. "You told me to."

"Oh, Doctor," she sighs, wiping tears from her eyes, fighting giggles. "I _am _home. You took me home." She gestures to the TARDIS around her. "This is home and always will be."

"What?" He looks around with new eyes. _Home._ "Really?"

"You stupid ape. Of _course_ it is!"

"Oh." He feels intense relief coursing through him, and his face relaxes into a smile. Then he realizes something. "Hang on – _stupid ape_?"

"That's what it feels like sometimes. Really? You thought I still think of London as home?"

"Well – yeah." He grins. "Guess I am a stupid ape, sometimes."

He feels giddy. The TARDIS is Rose's home. Rose is staying. And he is in love.

Of course, she doesn't need to know that. Yet.

_**Reviews? (Makes puppy-dog eyes, then holds up a kitten.) Pleeeease?**_


End file.
